


shaking hands with the dark parts of my thoughts

by eatthatup



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Ableist Language, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-09
Updated: 2017-05-09
Packaged: 2018-10-29 19:27:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10860531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eatthatup/pseuds/eatthatup
Summary: It doesn’t define him, it never did and it never will. But it’s still tiring. Even feels tired.





	shaking hands with the dark parts of my thoughts

**Author's Note:**

> this is just how i picture even dealing with his past getting brought up again!
> 
> not beta'd and probably full of mistakes. i'm sorry! 
> 
> insipired by [this](https://www.instagram.com/p/BTwlHovgb3W/) beautiful fanart
> 
> (editing this just to add my tw if you want you can follow me there @isakyakisieras)

Even feels tired. He thinks he probably needs to sleep better—and more, so he does. He lets Isak pull him closer in the morning when sunlight is barely entering through the window, so he closes his eyes and loses himself in their tangled bodies. Sometimes, it’s enough.

This time, though, it’s not. 

He’s tired. And when Isak kisses his nose, gets up, and leaves the room wearing nothing but one of Even’s hoodies—he’s sure he knows why. 

He’s not tired because he needs to sleep more or eat better. He’s tired of hiding, he’s tired of lying, and most importantly, he’s tired of letting his past haunt him. He’s tired because it does not define him, it never did and it never will. But—although he knows this, he feels himself slowly giving in. 

He hides and lies, when Isak finds him talking to Sana. He knows Isak like the back of his hand by now, so when Isak shoots him a worried look, he puts on his best smile. They eat Mcdonalds, and it’s all good. 

It’s all good, he repeats to himself. He finds Isak asking Sana about _him_ , and it’s all good. He pretends he doesn’t feel something—someone, pushing him down. 

Even learns to pretend, and it’s all good. 

-

It doesn’t surprise him, when it’s suddenly _not_ good. Because he can’t keep up the act, at least not to himself. And at some point, he allows his mind to wander. 

He’s sitting cross-legged on their bed, pencil in hand and notebook open and ready. White paper stares back at him, and he wonders if his mind would ever achieve such a blank state. He thinks it might help him—letting his thoughts out and pouring them on paper. Drawing usually works, but as most things these past days, it doesn’t. 

It doesn’t work, and he’s back to old lovers and old mistakes. Old memories and old friends, that in some way appear as vivid as he remembers them to be. It’s full of colors, their laughs and their deep talks. It’s full of fear too, also in colors, because feeling love towards someone will always be a colorful experience. Even if it’s a boy, even if it’s not mutual—because back then he felt confident, somehow, that it was alright, that there wasn’t anything wrong with having _feelings_ towards a _boy_. And then, the colors turn to grey. He sees his disgusted face, full of anger. He sees their disappointed faces and accusing looks, saying _“Are you brain damaged?”_ , white and black shades becoming stronger and stronger. 

A single tear rolls down his cheek when he shuts his eyes with too much force. And at the same time, Isak’s voice fills the quietness of their home. 

“Hey, baby.” He drops his backpack right by the door. His voice is too sweet, too pure, Even feels overwhelmed. 

“Hey.” He says, smiling—trying to.

Isak notices it right when he walks into the room, but chooses to stay silent. Even loves him so much it hurts. 

“What did you do today?” Pulling back from a quick kiss, he asks. 

_I thought about you, and my past, and about all the things I’m hiding from you_ he thinks. “Not much.” He says instead. 

Isak now looks at him, lovingly, reassuringly, and Even feels like he’s about to explode by the amount of love he has for this boy. 

“You know you can tell me anything, right? I’m—I’m not pressuring you.” Another smile, this time though, Even can see he’s hurting. It destroys him. “Just take your time. Minute by minute, remember?” 

Even nods and kisses him, in this minute, it’s all good. 

-

It becomes a constant. Waking up with Isak by his side and feeling a sense of staticity all over his body. It’s hard to breathe and move, with a weight pressing down his chest. He knows he should just let it all out, but he’s incapable of finding the right words and the right time. Ignoring it becomes almost impossible. 

Isak starts to notice. 

He keeps glancing sadly at Even, thinking he doesn’t notice, hugging him longer than necessary and just _pitying_ him in general. Even hates it. Hates making Isak feel like that, hates hurting him, and hates not being strong enough. Even hates not being enough. 

It drains all energy he has left. And late at night, when Isak hugs his back, buries his face in his neck and mumbles _I love you_.

Even doesn’t feel strong enough to say it back. 

-

Somehow, he starts having nightmares again. It’s not exactly ideal. It’s not something he wants to relive, but his mind is messing with him. Showing him all the dark parts of his thoughts. 

He roams through the empty hall of the school—his old school, with his old friends, old memories and old lovers—and he feels someone following him. At some point, the pressure becomes unbearable, so he turns around. Mikael is there, smiling wickedly at him, like he knows exactly what he did to him. Like he knows exactly how it still hurts. 

“He’s just like me.” He’s not. 

Mikael scoffs, like he's capable of hearing his thoughts. 

“He doesn’t love you.” He does. “He’s just a symptom, he’s just an idealized version of myself, he’s gonna leave you when he finds out, you don't deserve him.” His tone of voice is a familiar one, a known one. Even shudders.

He walks away then, and Even feels blood dripping down his hands. Three red droplets reach the floor, it's too familiar. He doesn’t dare to look. It’s too much. 

He wakes up drenched in sweat, he can’t breathe and he can’t move, and Isak is right there—beside him, sleeping and looking as ethereal as ever— but feels as far as the closest star. Even knows it’s all a lie, but he gives in nevertheless, letting his mind persuade him. It’s not exactly ideal. 

It’s just what it is. 

-

He wakes up with piercing green eyes burning his skin. Even feels it being pushed slightly to the back of his mind. It’s better than nothing. 

“I have an idea.” Isak says, reaching out to touch his face. Even shivers. 

“Dangerous.” He manages to joke, Isak has that effect. 

He lets out a soft laugh, throwing his head back lightly. Even looks at him fondly. 

“I think we should go out, get some fresh air.” Isak kisses his forehead. “We could both use it.” 

Even considers it, not because he doesn’t want to do it—he would do anything for Isak, but because it seems like the perfect opportunity to talk about _it_. And he’s not ready to do it, he’s not ready to forgive himself when he avoids it, pushing it back, far back. He finds the will to give Isak a tiny smile and nod. 

They walk hand in hand to the small café, enjoying the dead silence. And Even thanks every kind of God for Isak, because his sole presence manages to make him feel ten times better, just by being by his side and feeling the warmth of his hand. Just by existing. 

Reaching a secluded table at the back of the place, they sit. Isak orders for him, saying _“I know something that can make you feel better”_. Even wishes he could tell him that there isn’t any kind of drink that can make him feel better than Isak does. Isak’s smile and dimples and laugh. There isn’t a drink as sweet as Isak, or as hot as Isak. Nothing can compare. Even feels overwhelmed by the amount of love he has for him, again. 

Once Even tastes it, he’s sure his sudden smile is purely because of Isak, because he ordered it, and because he knows him. And because, definitely, nothing can compare. 

“I know you don’t want to talk.” He starts. Even’s smile fades. “But I think we are having some kind of misunderstanding.” Now, he tenses. And Isak’s smirk widens. “You are not keeping in mind how much I love you.” 

Even visually relaxes. God, he loves him so much.

“I know, trust me.” His mind wanders back to last night and his nightmare. 

“And I know you do, but it’s an _infinite_ amount of love—I’m not sure you’ll be able to keep up.” He lifts his eyebrows, taking a sip at his own drink by the end of the sentence. 

Even thinks the love he has for Isak is beyond infinite. 

He laughs. It feels good. “I like seeing you laugh.” Isak says. And it breaks his heart, that Isak has to see him like this again. It’s not fair. _He’s just a symptom_.

Even reaches out to run a hand through his recently-cut curls. They are slowly growing back again, and Even loves the feeling of his hair tangling in his fingers. It’s soft—almost like silk, and Isak leans into it, humming approvingly and closing his eyes. The tenderness of it all makes Even feel dizzy. 

_He’s not_. 

-

He has another nightmare. This time, Isak is there. He watches him—carefully, sadly, while he scurries through the main hall, unable of stopping the bleeding. His gaze sets his skin on fire, and he feels even more ashamed of what he did. Their constant laughter bounces from wall to wall, like it’s chasing him, mocking him. Now that it’s Isak’s shadow that’s following him intensely, he feels even more trapped than before, and he manages to reach the bathroom until Even can't take it anymore and finally turns around, facing him. It’s not what he expected, to see Isak so worried. 

He should be making fun of him. 

“Even!” 

He jolts awake, feeling his heart in his throat and he swallows loudly, trying to keep it down. Isak has one hand on his arm and the other on his back. It’s comforting in ways that Even didn’t think he needed.

“It’s just a nightmare, it’s okay.” Isak reassures him, moving one of his hand up and down slowly. Even doesn’t deserve him.

“You—you were there.” He manages to whisper, still finding it hard to breathe. “And-”

“But it isn’t real.” Even looks at him. He appears just as worried as inside his dream, but behind it all, he can see the amount of love—the infinite amount, he was talking about. “I’m right here, with you.” 

They lie down again, and Isak rubs their noses together. It feels like Isak trying to say _“You are deserving of love.”_

 

-

It’s less heavy, at some point. He got so used to the feeling that he doesn’t notice when it slowly disappears, making it easier for him to breathe again. Or maybe that familiar weight doesn’t lift at all, it just sinks into him even more, and Even allows it to stay there. Deep inside him. Even’s tired. 

They are both sitting on their bed, facing each other, but doing different things. Once again, Even is trying to draw, unsuccessfully. And Isak is writing an essay on his laptop. It feels domestic, and it is. It feels like home. Even loves it, and he feels so at ease that the words leave his mouth without him even noticing. 

“I liked someone at Bakka.” He says, at the same time he attempts to give meaning to the white paper he’s holding. “A boy.”

Isak stops typing. His gaze is fixed on him, interested. It encourages Even to continue.

“Mikael—I liked Mikael.” It’s definitely less heavy. “He didn’t like me like _that_ , though.” Even now looks at him. He lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. 

Isak closes his laptop and sits cross-legged in front of Even. 

“That’s okay.” Isak says. For a moment, Even thinks that it is.

“It was hard, liking a boy and not knowing what to do. But I felt kind of confident, you know?” Isak nods. “I-”

He glances back down, fumbling with the piece of white paper in his hands. It’s too much. It’s right there, in vivid colors and as detailed as ever. He doesn’t think he can handle it, and if he can’t handle it, then Isak won’t either. 

“Even, there’s nothing wrong with hiding something from your past from me.” He carefully joins their hands. “I don’t care about your past, the only thing I care about is the next minute. And that’s all about you.”

It’s still there, considering the sinking feeling and heavy breathing. But he looks right into Isak’s green eyes, and it’s definitely less heavy. 

-

It doesn’t define him, it never did and it never will. But it’s still tiring. Even feels tired. He walks quickly through the park, zipping up his jacket and looking down, avoiding any kind of reality in front of him. He’s sure that’s him, he’s sure that’s his hair and those are his eyes ( _“Are you insane, Even?” His eyes are full of anger. “Don’t ever touch me again.” _). He reaches their apartment and lets the tears fall. He doesn’t notice Isak hugging him until he’s moving both of them towards the bed.__

____

It sits back there, like a ghost in the back of his head, constantly reminding him that _it’s real_ and _it happened_. It doesn’t define him. But it’s a part of him. And he knows Isak loves _every_ part of him, good and bad ones, he tells Even this everyday. But if there’s one thing that _devastates_ Even, is seeing Isak getting hurt. 

____

So, it’s not easy—Isak just looks at him and makes it seem like it is. 

____

“I tried to kill myself two years ago.” It’s not easy. But Even knows it doesn’t define him. It never will. 

____

Isak is suddenly hugging him, with so much force and love, that Even feels stupid for hiding all this time. Because it’s _Isak_ , and since the first time he saw him, he was never a symptom. He’s not a symptom and he never will. And because he whispers “I love you.” and Even _knows_ —knows he’s telling him what Even’s been convincing himself of these past days, _it doesn’t define you, it never did, and it never will_. And because Isak is not leaving him, he’s right there, with his arms around his back—and he loves him, infinitely. 

____

“Thank you for telling me this.” Isak mumbles against his neck. 

____

When he pulls back, his eyes are glassy. But it’s all good. 

____

Because Even doesn’t feel tired anymore. 

____


End file.
